


When the Cut is Too Deep and You Cannot Speak

by lily_zen



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Caning, Daddy Issues, Dry Orgasm, Flogging, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5853484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_zen/pseuds/lily_zen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T.O.P likes pain; he likes to be whipped. Daesung indulges him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Cut is Too Deep and You Cannot Speak

When the Cut is Too Deep and You Cannot Speak

 

Fandom: BIGBANG RPF

Pairing: Todae

Rating: E/NC-17

Warnings: bdsm, whipping, ritualized violence, angst, pining

Author: Lily Zen

 

\---

Notes: I have been working on this for ages. It all started when T.O.P made an innocent comment that he’d never been whipped in the daytime at the Beijing fanmeet. My imagination went off from there. I won’t lie, this had been a rough journey. There have been stops and starts. In the end, this is the best I could do. I hope it’s enough.

Disclaimer: BIGBANG is made of real people, so I don’t own them. This story is based on highly fictionalized versions of the members’ on-stage personas, and thus has little to do with how they are/who they may be in reality. It’s just a story; don’t take it too seriously.

\---

“ _Hyung_ ,” Daesung complained as a pair of arms encircled his chest, and drew him back against a wiry, but strong chest. He knew who it was without even asking the question.

T.O.P didn’t like touching most people. He always felt awkward with actresses on set no matter how pretty or kind or funny they were. He didn’t make eye contact with them. He let them wait, having learned the value of waiting and how it brought people under your control. Then when it was time to film and their eyes met, his co-stars would squirm with embarrassment and desire. That was all a part of T.O.P’s image, a kind of deliberately deployed charm that would make the women weak in the knees.

What most people didn’t realize was that Seunghyun was only wary of touching strangers. He truly loved being affectionate with those he was close to. He would throw a companionable arm around GD or high-five Youngbae; he’d even tried to kiss Seungri as a joke on stage once. But these hugs—the kind where Seunghyun draped his lanky form all around you, where his breath would tickle the back of your neck, where he’d laugh in your ear as the fans screamed—those hugs were reserved for Daesung.

“Hyung,” Daesung put a little more force in his voice as T.O.P’s arms kept Daesung’s hands holding the mic pinned to his chest.

T.O.P’s grip loosened.

He was still grinning as Daesung turned around, the laugh lines next to his mouth carved deep. Under the hot spotlights and the rolling weight of the crowd’s lust, Daesung let his hips swing. He smiled, lit within by T.O.P’s joy and his own performance euphoria.

T.O.P grabbed his waist and moved with Daesung, a little jerky as he was wont to do, but enthusiastic. Then as Daesung went to pull away, T.O.P teasingly tried to plant a kiss on him.

Daesung heard the crowd scream as he bent back, placing a hand on Seunghyun’s chest to slow his progress. Laughing, Daesung straightened up and said in his best ‘maknae’ voice, “Don’t, hyung!” He went galloping away across the stage, grinning so hard that his eyelids turned into tiny smiles themselves.

\---

Nobody was surprised when Daesung slipped into the car that night next to Seunghyun. The tinted windows rolled up as they waved one last time at their fans, and then it was them, their driver, and Seunghyun’s personal assistant. Still too public for Daesung’s liking, but at least with the roar of the fans left behind them, Daesung could grip Seunghyun’s knee over his jeans, the denim surprisingly soft and worn under his blunt fingertips. He leaned in against Seunghyun’s side and whispered menacingly, “You are in for it when we get to your place.”

Thankfully, the concert had been a domestic one, so rather than returning to another anonymous hotel room, Seunghyun was dropped off at the comfort of his own home outside the city. The sprawling home was a wonder of clean lines and glass panes stacked on top of one another. Reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright’s works, the split level home seemed to nestle perfectly on the ridge.

The front face of the home alternated panels of glass and snow white, corrugated aluminum, creating the effect of a haphazard chess board. Sheer white drapes offered hints of what lay behind that wall. His housekeeper had forgotten to pull the dove gray privacy panels before she’d left for the day. He would have to leave her a note, just a gentle reminder that his home was filled with tempting treasures, and while he could certainly afford the loss, he didn’t particularly want to.

As his P.A. popped the car door open, Seunghyun straightened out his olive green jacket and said a quiet, “Thank you. Have a good evening, both of you.”

His P.A. opened his mouth to ask, “You don’t want—?”

Seunghyun cut him off with a short shake of his head. “No, that’s alright. Daesungie is here to keep me company.” As he spoke, the younger man was stepping out of the car on the other side, running a hand through his tawny hair to push back its gentle waves. Seunghyun couldn’t help but to let his lips curl upward a little bit. Normally, he would invite his P.A. in for a drink, uncork a bottle of wine, and share a glass as he slowly began to relax from the day’s trials. This was no time to dawdle though. A shiver that had nothing to do with cold ran up his spine.

Daesung was coming around the car after stretching out his legs, shooting that gentle smile at his P.A. “Don’t worry; I’ll see that he makes it up to his room.”

It was an ongoing joke between them that T.O.P’s evening glass of wine often became two, then he just gave up and finished the bottle, citing the fact that it would sour if left out too long. By that time, Seunghyun was usually quite intoxicated, though he often declined to admit to it.

Nodding, the P.A. returned to the car where he informed his colleague that they could both go home for the evening.

T.O.P unlocked his front door and quickly moved to the wall, entering the code on the small panel that controlled his alarm system.

The walls were white, of course, as befitted a gallery, and the floors were done in an oak-stained parquet that was actually made from bamboo. It was classy, modern, elegant; everything Seunghyun’s style was. He may have liked to play around with colors and styles in his wardrobe, but his home was the place where his design aesthetic really shined.

Daesung, knowing his way quite well around Seunghyun’s home, slipped around him as he reset the alarm and disappeared up the staircase with its streamlined banister, a long, soft shush following him as he let his hand trail on the railing.

Seunghyun hung his jacket up, anticipation rolling in his gut, twining around each other like serpents in an inky sea. He went for a bottle of wine out of habit, trading his shoes by the door for house slippers and lining his black dress shoes with their pointed toes up neatly next to Daesung’s comfortable, brown leather loafers. His wine rack was in the kitchen. He had yet to figure out a proper storage solution for his collection. Seunghyun really wanted one of those in-ground wine cellars he saw in _Architectural Digest_ , but he’d have to do some pretty extensive remodeling to build it. In between tours, films, and endless obligations to the press, it was hard to find the time. So for now he was keeping his expensive wines on an inexpensive wooden rack on his expensive granite countertop; like him, his home had its own eccentricities.

The 2012 Lewis Cellars Cab Sauv from the Reserve Imperial Magnum collection ought to do nicely. It wasn’t as expensive as some of his other wines, but it came highly recommended. He was eager to try it, and felt like tonight was the night to test its purported ‘high octane’ experience. It would be dark and woodsy on his tongue at first, moving into the sweetness of black currants, and finishing with a bite of port-like, robust tannins; at least that was the promise. He swallowed heavily, his hand grasping the neck of the almost-black glass bottle, fingers splayed out to caress the round, golden label.

Hearing movement behind him, Seunghyun startled from his contemplative daze. Daesung was moving around in the living room. He could hear the muffled clunks and thuds as Dae began moving things about, arranging them to his liking and to suit their intended purposes.

“Put that down,” Daesung called, voice firm despite it still carrying a hint of his mother-hen tendencies, “and get in here.”

Licking his lips slowly, Seunghyun hesitated. There was a part of him that wasn’t quite ready to switch yet. He’d just come off of the stage, and his T.O.P persona was still at the forefront of his mind. There was a momentary battle of wills as the _gentleman rapper_ bucked against the command. His thighs tensed as he rode out the urge to rebel.

“Seunghyun,” Daesung said, and this time there was no mother hen in his tone at all. This was cool granite like the countertop beneath Seunghyun’s hands. This was a command.

At that moment, something unknotted at the base of his spine. T.O.P went away, and so did every other mask he wore as Seunghyun shifted into someone else entirely, someone who rarely came out to play except on nights like these where the tension, the pressure, the anxiety was riding him too hard and he had to find a way to let it all out, to give someone part of the burden. Daesung was that person for Seunghyun. He wasn’t sure why it had to be Daesung, but it did. They’d been doing it for so long now that it was a hard habit to break.

Seunghyun dropped his shoulders and slinked into the living room to stand before Daesung, who was busy almost entirely ignoring him as he placed the oak-finished Charlotte Perriand stool before Seunghyun’s more retro armchair, the one that was comfortably cushioned with a wide back like a throne, but with low arms. They didn’t go together at all, but Daesung didn’t care about that. Daesung wanted utility over fashion.

While Dae was busy with that, Seunghyun glanced over at his glass conversation table. Lined up neatly according to some order already existing in Daesung’s head were a variety of tools—rope, crops, whips, soft leather floggers; lube, plugs, clamps, cock rings. They might not get to them all, but each one promised its own painful delight. His cock began to stiffen with interest, although his face remained impassive.

When Daesung finally deigned to give Seunghyun his attention, it was with a swift appraisal from head to feet, lingering a little on the bulge in Seunghyun’s jeans. His lips quirked as he said simply, “Strip.”

\---

It all started back when Daesung was eighteen. They’d had their debut, but their careers hadn’t exploded like YG planned. There was a lot of pressure on them all to be better, to do better. They were living hard in a two-bedroom apartment, still on a tight budget, and Seunghyun was starting to crack at the lack of silence, the lack of space, the lack of _normalcy_.

Daesung was quieter than normal, more somber. He’d spend whatever free time he had sitting on his futon with his head phones in. He read a lot then too.

Seunghyun found Daesung’s stillness to be a balm to his shattered nerves, and spent as much time with him as possible. The two of them listened to their separate music on their separate iPods and pretended the outside world didn’t exist for a while. They would hurry to get to sleep before Youngbae came back from the dance studio, because once Youngbae arrived, the three stooges would gather in the kitchen talking way too loudly and blowing off steam. It’d be impossible for Seunghyun to nod off until the wee hours of the morning, silently growing more and more pissed off at them.

On an otherwise normal evening, Seunghyun was huddled under his blankets. He was waiting for Daesung to fall asleep, but Daesung was still awake bobbing his head to his music. It was impossible to be alone in a house full of five men, and sometimes a manager or two, and occasionally a noona who would cook or clean or just make sure they had the necessities. That really put a crimp in Seunghyun’s style, because there he was twenty years old and he felt like he had to ask for permission every time he wanted to get off.

Fuck it, he decided, and turned to face the wall. He put his hand down his sleep pants and palmed his cock—and fuck, he was already hard because he was thinking pretty intently about how he’d like to slip his dick into something wet and warm, and about how he’d like to slap the shit out of Youngbae and Seungri, both in the kitchen braying like donkeys, and about Daesung’s stillness as a hot bath that Seunghyun wanted to slide into up to his neck—and had to bite his lip.

There were just certain things you learned to ignore when you had four male roommates, and all of you were hormonally charged up and there was no personal space. Frequently catching your roommates masturbating was one of them. Seunghyun was sweating into his nightclothes, palm slick and shoulders tensed up when Daesung looked up, registered the movement of his arm and said out loud, “Oh. _Oh._ ”

He couldn’t come. There was nothing worse than the feeling that he needed to come—needed it more than his next breath—but something just wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t because Daesung was watching. Fuck Daesung. He could get with the program or get the fuck out. It was because something inside of Seunghyun wouldn’t let him. Too burdened with worry, rage, and pain, he felt stuck, mired in it.

Clearly, nobody had told Daesung the rules. “Seung—“ Daesung hesitated, then continued in a harsh whisper, “Seunghyun, I am _right here_. Don’t you think you could have, I don’t know, gone in the bathroom or something?”

Seunghyun risked an angry glare over his shoulder. Daesung was leaning forward on his futon, arms braced on the bedding. He looked more shocked than upset, but there was a little bit of that in there too. “Fuck off, Dae.”

Daesung jerked his headphones off like he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard Seunghyun right. His eyes narrowed even more as he spat back, “Seriously? That’s how it’s gonna be? Fuck you too, _hyung_.” His sarcasm cut through the last word with all the subtlety of a chainsaw. “I have put up with so much shit—“

“I’d have been done before you knew it,” Seunghyun snapped, hand no longer moving but still grasping his member. It seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, reminding him with each passing moment of his dissatisfaction.

“—from you these past few weeks. You’re moody, you’re tense; you’re acting like a fucking _girl_.”

The fact that Daesung was cussing should have clued Seunghyun in to just how high Dae’s level of agitation was, but he was so caught up in his own drama, he just didn’t. “Now you’ve fucked it all up.”

“I—? Are you kidding me right now with this shit?” Daesung bolted out of bed, red flaring up on his broad cheekbones. Within the space of a blink, he drew back and slapped Seunghyun, open palm but viciously, on his back.

Seunghyun’s cock wept as the pain zinged through him and settled into a warm glow in the middle of his back. Some of the sludge in his soul shifted and he took a small breath of relief.

“Do that again,” he snapped, putting his hand on the bed to lever his upper body off the mattress. His dark, heavy eyebrows were drawn low, and though the expression should have been menacing, Daesung didn’t back down. “I dare you,” Seunghyun rumbled.

Daesung’s lips pressed into as thin a line as they could make, and he hit Seunghyun’s back again, the slap rocking him forward.

“Again,” Seunghyun commanded as his cock throbbed and the muck moved and finally, finally, finally he could breathe.

“You fucking—“ Daesung ripped the blanket off to let it pool around Seunghyun’s waist, then slapped him again. “—asshole,” he panted. “I am so, so—“

“Again,” Seunghyun groaned as his nerves began to sing.

“—angry at you. I’m angry all the time. Do you think you’re the only one who’s angry?”

He didn’t even have to ask anymore, Daesung just kept hitting at him, a fire blazing in his eyes that were usually only banked coals. Daesung pushed him over, and Seunghyun automatically cocked a knee so that his hand wasn’t crushed between his body and the bed. His sweatshirt got jerked up, exposing his pale skin and lean back to the air. It felt cool on his skin, and not just because the heat in the apartment sucked ass. The smacks began to land on his bare skin, each sending a hot jolt through his body. Amidst the pain, he began to feel something, something that wasn’t just about angst and arousal, though it was difficult to describe exactly what it _was_.

“Please,” Seunghyun ground out, his jaw clenched tight. He needed to know. He had to understand.

“Please,” he repeated, reaching back for Daesung’s hand, catching one of his flailing arms, then tugging it around his body. He curled Daesung’s hand around his balls and held them there tight, squeezing, bordering on agonizing as he stroked and Daesung struck, and he finally felt his orgasm give way. He came and he came, sticky, slick mess coating his hand, shooting up high and hitting his forearm where the sleeve was pushed up. For a moment, his mind blanked out, although he had enough presence of mind to limit himself to excruciating gasps of air when what he desperately wanted to do was moan.

Daesung’s striking finally slowed and abated, like he too was wrung out, collapsing against Seunghyun’s back. His tears, cool and sweet, kissed Seunghyun’s reddened flesh. Turning hastily,  Seunghyun wrapped his arms, even with his sticky hand, around Daesung. They held each other, and they both cried.

\---

Nobody else got to see Daesung like this. This Daesung—stern, unyielding, so confident in his desires—was for Seunghyun’s viewing pleasure only. It was here that Daesung shed his shyness, his politeness, and Seunghyun could see the beast that peeked through Daesung’s iron control on stage, flirting with an audience of thousands. Secretly, Daesung loved the power of that moment, when he smiled and they sighed; when he flexed and they gasped; when he danced and they screamed for him. He’d always drop his gaze and play coy if cornered about it, but he loved that they wanted him so badly, that they saw him as an object of desire. Their arousal made him strong; _Seunghyun’s_ arousal made him strong too.

“Dae,” Seunghyun began. He was reaching for his shirt buttons already, long fingers slipping the small, plastic disks through the holes of his flannel shirt.

Daesung raised his eyebrows. “Ah-ah. What do you call me?”

“Sir,” Seunghyun corrected himself, feeling a hot blush stain his cheekbones. He’d hated it at first when Daesung demanded to be called that. It made him feel like he was back at home with his father. They weren’t close, and what childhood memories he did have of the man were of an unsmiling face and a brutal hand.

Now when he called Daesung ‘sir,’ though, his cock got harder. Every ‘sir’ was a little ‘fuck you’ to their ongoing rocky relationship. Every time he even mouthed the word, he pictured his father finding out that his son loved having his ass paddled until it was red and raw, that it made his cock weep with longing, and the imagined look of shock and shame on his father’s face gave him a deep glow of satisfaction.

“Sir,” he said, shirt hanging loose, revealing the white t-shirt he wore beneath, and his thin black belt, the leather cracked and worn around his most often used notch. “The curtains.”

To which Daesung actually turned to look at the windows, pressing his thick lips together as tightly as they would go. It would be bad for them both if anyone caught them, that was for sure. It would mean not only the probable end of their careers, but possibly Jiyong, Youngbae, and Little Seunghyun’s as well.

With a huff, he broke out of his dom mode to mutter, “You’ve really got to remind your maid to close them when she leaves.” Stepping around the furniture, Daesung unhooked one end of the drapes from the chrome ties, then drew them toward the middle of the bank of windows.

“Or move somewhere with actual walls,” he added as he moved to the other side and repeated the process.

While Seunghyun was slipping his belt out of the loops and undoing his fly, he watched Daesung close the final drapes on the side wall, leaving them enveloped in the warm, satiny glow of Seunghyun’s table lamps and gentle overhead track lighting. The sense that they were insulated from the world pervaded all, and gave Seunghyun a boost of confidence as he pushed his jeans and underwear down over his hip bones, letting them pool around his ankles.

Daesung had turned and was watching him undress, his tanned fingers sliding over the back of Seunghyun’s white leather arm chair, sensitive pads tracing the rough edge of the stitching.

His cock, once freed, sprang up, arching toward Daesung as if in invitation. ‘Touch me,’ it begged silently. ‘Touch me.’ Flushed with blood, heavy with need, it reached out, and Daesung watched it from behind heavy lidded eyes, sucking his upper lip in slightly as he bit back desire and impatience.

“All the way,” Daesung commanded.

“Yes, sir,” Seunghyun responded automatically as he stepped out of his jeans, and stripped his socks off one by one. He was bare now, totally exposed, and fought against the tide of his usual shyness. He took pride in his body now, how his arms were lean and muscled, and his abs gently carved. He liked to think he looked like a fae creature, long and lean, but armed with deceptive, sinewy musculature. His legs were dusted with hair that grew darker and thicker on his thighs. The thatch of hair above his cock was darker still—Daesung liked to comb his fingers through it when he was in the mood to suck Seunghyun off, marveling at the softness of those strands—and trailing up in a thinning line to his navel. Seunghyun wasn’t normally so vain, but when Daesung looked at him with those darkening eyes, licking his lips like he was hungry, he felt damn beautiful.

Still fully clothed, highlighting the power differential in their roles, Daesung took a seat on the armchair and gestured toward the stool in front of him. There would be no forgiveness yet.

When Seunghyun went to sit, Daesung shook his head sharply. “No, kneel.” When Seunghyun looked for an explanation, he specified, “Knees on the floor, upper body over the stool; wrap your hands around the legs. Don’t move.”

His hands made the pale wood on the stool look like deep, rich amber. The round edges pressed uncomfortably into his chest, but Seunghyun realized that was part of the point. The stool was just tall enough that he couldn’t lean back on his heels and follow Daesung’s instructions. His ass felt exposed, out there on display, while he offered his back up like an hors d’oeuvres tray.

Daesung’s hands, dry and warm, ran down his back. His right hand stopped over Seunghyun’s hip, but the left continued on, palming his ass. He drew back just enough, and laid a harsh crack on Seunghyun’s right ass cheek.

Seunghyun let out a small grunt at the impact, then bit his lip as warmth spread under his skin. God, that was good. It had been too long; three or four months since the last time Daesung had felt inclined to take him like this. It was always Daesung’s decision. He’d let Seunghyun wait and wait and wait, the ache building until Seunghyun was ready to rub himself up against a pole for a little relief, and then Daesung would swoop in, ready to release him.

Sometimes he wondered what their relationship might be if they weren’t celebrities. If BIGBANG hadn’t taken off, and their careers had petered out, would Daesung and Seunghyun be something more than this? Would they cuddle on the couch? Would they date? Would they move in together and fuck when they wanted to? Would they stop fighting the pull they felt toward one another until the tether snapped them back together?

Sometimes Daesung, guilt-ridden and apologetic, would say that what they did together was wrong. It jeopardized everything they had worked their adult lives for. The thing was Seunghyun knew that, and he knew on some level that it was a little fucked up, being totally reliant on your friend to get you off, to give you the kind of release that could only be found when you completely let go. He just didn’t care enough to stop it; he was selfish that way.

The tip of his dick brushed against the underside of the stool, and the feel of the cool wood against the heat of his foreskin made him shudder.

Daesung had stood up and was over by the conversation table. From the corner of his eye, Seunghyun saw him grab the rope. His balls throbbed once, then he forced himself to calm.

The rope was soft as Daesung tied his ankles together, then ran both ends of the rope up his legs. This was the tricky part. First the rope had to be looped around his waist, then back down to his balls and the base of his cock where it nestled snugly in a figure eight, then tied back up around his waist. Dae had gotten good at it over the years though, his attention to detail second only to Seunghyun’s critical eye. With that finished, he trailed the rope up Seunghyun’s back, and fashioned it around his neck in a makeshift choker. With the knot in the front, he was able to trail the separate ends to each of Seunghyun’s wrists, lashing them to the stool.

“Just in case you got any ideas about moving,” Daesung murmured. There was an unspoken laugh buried in his words, a little mean, but mostly teasing. He liked how Seunghyun would take almost anything he dished out. There had only been two times that Seunghyun had used their safe word, and it was in the early days when they were still both figuring things out. After that, Daesung had paid closer attention, gotten better at decoding just what Seunghyun wanted and when. It helped that his natural inclination was to observe and analyze people.

Even while Seunghyun was getting trussed up, he was thinking with an anticipatory fear and delight of the array of toys on the table top. Testing his bonds, he discovered that Daesung had been as thorough as always. If he moved his hands, even though there was a little slack and he could slide his wrists down, brace himself with palms flat on the floor, the rope would tighten around his neck, constricting his air flow. If he moved his legs or tried to shift off of his chest, the rope would tighten that way as well around his waist and his more delicate parts. Though the design was simple, it was masterful. It would provide just the right kind of incentive for obedience, but in the heat of the moment, that kind of pain would turn to pleasure.

He breathed out a sigh and caught sight of Daesung at the table again, watching him from beneath lowered lashes. The black anal plug in his hand looked particularly menacing against his golden skin, a bulky arrow that would spread Seunghyun wide and set him to writhing. The funny thing was it wasn’t even the biggest in his collection. Compared to some of his toys, this one was streamlined. He understood Daesung’s move toward caution though. It had been a while since Seunghyun had been worked open until his hole was a gaping mess, dripping with slick lube and creamy cum and Daesung’s spit all mixing together, making a mess on his bed that hadn’t fully dried for days, and Seunghyun hadn’t been keeping up on ensuring that his asshole was primed and ready for use. This was going to hurt no matter what, but in such a good way.

Daesung moved back around his body to where Seunghyun couldn’t see him. He felt the other man’s presence though, a line of heat that vibrated along his thighs and set his muscles to trembling. The pop of the cap on the lube was loud in the hush, and suddenly Seunghyun could hear his own breaths, loud and heavy, as liquid was squirted out and spread over the rubber, probably more than was needed since he could hear the squick-squick-squick as Daesung spread it over the surface. He didn’t mind though; better to be cautious than too injured to move in the morning. Then the narrow tip was pressed against his unprepared opening, and he gasped as Daesung pushed it in without warning.

“Aish,” he hissed out loud as his anus protested the sudden invasion, and began counting, thinking of all the thing that relaxed him, all the things that made his asshole loosen up in anticipation. He thought about the thick paint on the palette knife painting he’d just acquired, about the sleek lines on his favorite chairs; he thought about sunny days, about lying on a deck chair with the ocean breeze blowing his shirt against his skin; he thought about running his fingers through Daesung’s hair and seeing him smile, wide and carefree, and about the way Daesung’s cock, long and thick and perfect, slid in and out of him with the right tempo every time. Fuck, that was it; his body stopped protesting, and something in him shifted, pleased and purring.

“Okay?” Daesung wanted to know. His hands were stroking Seunghyun’s back and his ass, soothing even as they aroused. He’d knelt next to Seunghyun, and as the older man rumbled a low assent, he pressed those perfect lips to the top of Seunghyun’s buttock and kissed him. “Good,” he said. “You’re so good, Seunghyunnie. You take it so good.” The combination of the filthy words with Daesung’s sweet voice ratcheted his need higher. The teeth that bit into his ass helped with that too.

He let out a soft sound of need, hoping that Daesung wouldn’t torment him too long and yet contradictorily praying that’s all he did because he was so fucking good at torturing Seunghyun, of taking him to ecstatic highs and gliding him through devastating lows, that it was impossible not to wonder what it would be like if they could stay in that moment forever.

“D—sir,” he corrected himself hurriedly. Just then he heard a click, and then the plug in his ass was vibrating on its lowest setting, still intent as it teased at his prostate but wasn’t quite set high enough to actually bring him that lightning-hot streak of pleasure that he wanted from it. “Please,” he begged shamelessly.

“’Please,’ what?” Daesung replied, smoothly rising up off of his knees.

“Please,” Seunghyun paused and felt his voice change, dropping lower with need at the sudden slew of images that him, “punish me.”

“Why should I punish you?” Daesung asked. His tone was clinically curious, but Seunghyun knew better than to buy into that. He knew Daesung hated it when Seunghyun was overly affectionate with him on stage or in front of cameras. It put them both in an awkward position, because then no matter how much he might have wanted to reciprocate, Daesung had to be the bad guy and pull away. If they couldn’t have Jiyong and Seungri making out on stage, they certainly couldn’t afford to have T.O.P and Daesung doing it. It would be career suicide.

“I—I tried to kiss you tonight on stage,” he confessed.

“Yes,” Daesung agreed, his voice a thoughtful hum, “that was impetuous of you. Maybe that does deserve _some_ punishment. You know that bothers me. I want to pull you close then; I want to pull your hair and tongue-fuck your mouth in front of all those people.”

Seunghyun’s hips moved. The ropes tightened around his neck and his ankles, but he didn’t care. The tip of his cock rubbed across the slick wood finish.

“Would you like that, slut?”

Seunghyun groaned.

A hand landed on his ass, and he jumped as much as his bonds allowed, really little more than an overenthusiastic twitch.

“Slut,” Daesung ground out, his voice getting harder, changing from rough spun silk into something deadlier.  “You’d love it if I took you in front of everybody. As much as you protest, you love the slick lens of the camera, the adoration of the crowd just as much of any of us, you little exhibitionist.”

The next strike that came wasn’t from Daesung’s hand, but from the rectangular end of a riding crop. It cut through the air with a neat whoosh, and bit into Seunghyun’s ass with a popping noise.

“Oh,” he uttered, surprised as always by the sudden change. Daesung could go from sweet and syrupy to hot and demanding so quickly, but with so long between sessions, his mind often let go of those details lest he drive himself mad from wanting.

“Say you’re sorry,” Daesung snapped. It was their little game. Daesung would make him apologize over and over for some stupid offense, and Seunghyun would hold off as long as he could until he was shaking all over, until his nerves were singing and he was begging, begging, _begging_ Daesung for relief.

Playing his part, Seunghyun bit his lip, because he wanted what came next more than he wanted his next breath.

The next strike landed on his upper right cheek, and he knew from there it was on. Daesung was never brutal with his hits. Each one was deliberately placed, scoring his buttocks in what he was sure was a beautiful crosshatch. He’d cover one area thoroughly, then move to the next, always in control of his swings. The riding crop was the perfect warm-up tool because while its strikes could leave welts behind in their wake, there was never blood. Those hits began to move higher and higher until each one landed on his back, and Seunghyun closed his eyes because his ass was stinging and with the hits on his back, he’d shifted just enough that the plug moved and was digging into his inner wall, pressing up against his prostate now.

“Oh, god,” he moaned, almost in prayer. “Please, sir, please,” Seunghyun rambled, “please, please, please.”

Daesung clicked the remote in his pocket, and the vibrator went up in speed.

Seunghyun could see it, red lightning bolts chasing across the swirling colors in his black field of vision. “Oh, god, yes, yes, yes,” he chanted softly as his hips arched into the stool, as he grabbed what little friction he could find, the rope tightening around his balls and his neck with each move until he was gasping. Just when he could feel his orgasm rising up in him, everything stopped; Daesung put the crop down at his side, and he turned off the plug, and Seunghyun was left hanging on the precipice, tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing and his heartbeat.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Daesung asked.

Seunghyun whimpered. “No. No, sir.” He licked his dry lips and cracked open his eyes.

“No,” Daesung repeated. He was watching his submissive lover’s back rise and fall with each breath while he calmed his unsteady heart. Palming himself through his jeans, Daesung contemplated his next move. The riding crop was a warm-up, and Seunghyun knew it; Seunghyun could take a lot of abuse. More to the point, he liked it. However, the older man had specific tastes that needed to be satisfied, and while at one time Daesung may have shied away from that, the car accident had left him with a new darkness to be explored. It wasn’t something he was grateful for experiencing, but he chose to see a positive side to it.

“Are you sorry?” Daesung murmured, giving himself a moment as he perused the selection he’d brought down from Seunghyun’s room.

“Yes,” Seunghyun replied immediately.

Raising his palm, he smacked Seunghyun’s left ass cheek with a meaty sound. His palm hurt from the impact, so he knew Seunghyun had to be feeling it. “Liar,” Daesung snapped as he bent to grab the willow switch from the table. It was best to use it now while Seunghyun’s endorphins were raging high, blocking out his pain receptors to a certain degree. The flexible branch cut through the air with an intimidating sound, and he watched Seunghyun shudder, adjusting his grip on the stool’s legs as he identified the tool.

The first hit raised a long, red welt across Seunghyun’s back. “Sorry now?” he bit out as his lover rode the sudden jump in stimuli.

“Yes,” Seunghyun hissed obligingly, forgetting the ‘sir’ deliberately as the only defiance he was allowed.

Daesung’s arm muscles tensed as he brought the switch down again. This one required more control than the last. If he brought it down with any excessive force, for instance if he arced it and let it gain kinetic energy, he’d split the skin and make Seunghyun bleed. While that wasn’t a problem for Seunghyun if they were using their off time, they were supposed to perform again tomorrow. They couldn’t have any blood seeping through his shirt. Short, sharp hits were the key to success here; Seunghyun moaned like a little bitch at the concentrated lines of heat that scored his back.

He couldn’t be as picky about placement this time. The switch was longer and Daesung was wary of crosshatching with it. Seunghyun needed to be able to move tomorrow.

The first hit had landed on the left side of his lower back, bringing up a thin, red welt that was almost as long as Daesung’s hand. The second landed across his mid-back, and this was a solid one. The resulting line ran across the length of his back.

Leaning over him, Daesung ran a slow, wet tongue across the reddening skin. He breathed against it, making Seunghyun shudder at the contrast between hot and cold. Then while he was still processing it, Daesung brought the switch down with a flick of his wrist, this time further on the right. A mark bloomed close to Seunghyun’s armpit, the skin so sensitive that that the older man couldn’t help but to cry out.

“Sir!” he shouted reflexively, and Daesung couldn’t help but to be pleased.

“What’s that, princess?” Daesung asked. His words caressed Seunghyun’s ear as he leaned in close, breath soft and minty.

A shudder thrilled up Seunghyun’s spine at his master’s next words: “You want me to stop? You want me to sit here and put my feet up on your back, have a Scotch while you writhe and try to convince me that you’re sorry?”

“No!” Seunghyun spat out earnestly. He wasn’t ready for the session to end, and Daesung wasn’t cruel enough to leave him in this state, was he? “No, sir, please. I want—“ his voice got gravelly as he continued, “—I want to show you how sorry I am.”

“To do your penance?” Daesung wondered, tracing a hand down Seunghyun’s ass crack and around the blunted end of the anal plug. He grabbed Seunghyun’s testicles firmly, massaging them between dry, warm fingers.

The pleasure coiled in his gut, a warm, serpentine thing that set him to writhing. The ropes tightened on his neck and around his genitals, reminding him of their presence, but the sudden sense of constricted joy was that much more of a turn-on. Seunghyun breathed hard against the silk rope and let his body do what it wanted as Daesung moved his testicles back from his body where they’d tightened up in his arousal.

“Yes,” Seunghyun got out in a gasp as a curious finger explored his taint, finding that angle that made his limbs tremble with need. Quick as a flash, Daesung stepped back and brought the flexible wood down across his back again once, twice. Before the third, he had to shift, plant his palms flat on the floor even though it cut his air off even more. The last crack came down on his ass, and he felt the fire radiate up his spine. He moaned, a breathless sound that got strangled by the rope pressing into his wind pipe.

“Please,” he wheezed, and Daesung brought the switch down one more time hard over his ass. The tip bent just right and cut a small line in the skin near his hip. Seunghyun bit down on his lip hard as high-pitched, needy whine escaped him, and tasted blood. Fuck, he’d needed that. He’d needed just that little bit more, and Daesung knew that; Daesung, who was licking his hip with a sweet, wet tongue; who was rubbing his taint in tight little circles guaranteed to make him come; who was setting his teeth into the taut skin of his right buttock until he cried out.

Just when Seunghyun felt his orgasm build, Daesung was also the one who clamped fingers tightly around the head of his cock, cut off the feeling, and left him to rock on the agonizing precipice of completion.

“Oh,” he groaned, voice dropped into a heretofore unrecorded baritone range, rocking with want to rub the head of his cock up against the underside of the stool to assuage some, if not all, of his yearning.

“Bad princess,” Daesung bit out, hitting him open palm on the backs of his sensitive thighs. “You’re know you’re not allowed to come without permission.”

“Yes,” Seunghyun gasped even as Daesung’s fingers made a move to tighten around his cock. “I know. I won’t, sir, I promise.”

With his fingers tight enough that they bordered on painful, Daesung carefully stroked downward. Seunghyun was long enough and hard enough that his foreskin moved back to expose the head to the open air. The touch of the slightly cooler temperature was enough to make him shudder.

“You like that?” Daesung asked, his voice quiet and low, a calm, steady harmony to Seunghyun’s harsh breaths.

“Yes,” he replied, not having to fake it or mince words, because fuck, just that little touch had been worth it.

“You want more?”

“Oh, god, _yes_ ,” he moaned.

So Daesung, grip firm around his length stroked once from root to tip; he curved his upper body around the stool, watching Seunghyun’s eyes as they grew heavy-lidded and heated. “You want to come?” he asked.

“Yes,” Seunghyun hissed without thinking.

Just as soon as they had come, Daesung’s fingers were gone.

“That’s too bad,” he replied, lips pursed, “because I’m not ready to let you.”

Even as Seunghyun was mourning the loss, Daesung had bought his lips up to Seunghyun’s. He took a moment to revel in the sensual pleasure provided by that plump mouth, swollen from Daesung’s own manipulation of them. Even though Daesung’s lips were beneath his, he managed to dominate the kiss, pressing up into Seunghyun’s mouth hard enough that he had to open to the invasion or pull his head back, and he definitely didn’t want to do that. Daesung’s kisses were life, his lips a sweet counterpoint to the tongue that speared into him and demanded surrender, searching out nooks and crannies Seunghyun wasn’t aware of during the day.

Breath stammering in his lungs, Daesung finally pulled back from the kiss and rose smoothly from the floor. He was perfectly in control despite his labored breathing, unlike Seunghyun, who was murmuring under his breath, “Please, sir. Don’t—don’t leave me.”

But Daesung was only gone a moment, just long enough to pick up the soft, leather flogger, its tail a mess of suede strips, the braided handle worn in certain spots that conformed to his grip. The flogger was gentler than both the switch and the riding crop, a less concentrated force. It was more about the tease than about the pain, and was a good way to ease Seunghyun off of the edge of masochistic delight he was riding without making him feel deprived or unfinished.

His strokes were light, bringing the tail back with expert precision and letting it snap forward, the many leather ends of the flogger arcing through the air doing the work for him. These he spread out over Seunghyun’s back, buttocks, and thighs, even a few on his calves to stimulate but not cut. The flogger moved through the air at an almost leisurely pace in comparison to the previous toys, landing on Seunghyun’s skin in rapid pap-pap-pap-pap sounds. It was the sound more than the feel that made him shudder, Daesung knew, but it was still enough stimulation.

“You’ve been very bad,” Daesung purred.

Seunghyun felt the pause in the swings with something like sorrow. Was it over? Was this the end? Then Daesung was kneeling behind him, denim clad legs on either side of his bare ones. The flogger was gentle as Dae flicked it, the ends landing in the middle of his back amidst already burning and raised skin. He dragged the tails down Seunghyun’s spine as the intensity of the anal plug got turned up to the maximum.

“Yes, I have, sir,” Seunghyun agreed. He recognized that he was the limit for what he could tolerate tonight. The concert tomorrow couldn’t afford to have an absent member.

Daesung repeated his soft, gentle flick, and the teasing trails of suede dancing down his spine. It was a caress, Seunghyun knew.

“Very bad,” Seunghyun agreed. “I’m very sorry.”

“Are you?” Then, “I accept.”

Reaching around his hip, Daesung gripped his cock with perfect pressure. The flogger hit the floor with a dull crack, the handle striking the wood first. Then a clever tongue licked over a bright red welt while he began to stroke. It didn’t take long, and Seunghyun warned his master with a quick, “Dae.”

“Oh, god,” he ground out, wheezing and writhing while Daesung suddenly wrapped his fingers tightly around the blunt head of Seunghyun’s dick, thumb pressing in. His free hand was massaging Seunghyun’s taint, stimulating his prostate externally, and that combined with everything else brought his orgasm on fast after all the teasing. Instead of ribbons of come striping the underside of the stool though, he rocked and whimpered and shook, but there was nothing. Daesung’s expert touch had separated his ejaculation from his orgasm, keeping him hard for whatever was next.

He was panting, sweat running into his eyes when he recognized the loosening of his bonds, and Daesung peeling his sticky chest off of the stool, rubbing his hands over the marks where its edges had bit in.

“You okay?” he asked in Seunghyun’s ear, caring and mellow.

Daesung was kissing his neck, soft hair tickling him, as he swallowed hard and replied, “Yes.”

“Good,” Daesung agreed. “Because now I’m going to fuck you.”

Seunghyun groaned, but it wasn’t a pained sound. It was eager.

They didn’t always have sex. Most of their sessions were almost clinical. Daesung stayed clothed and dominated Seunghyun, giving him what he needed; though the act of dominating aroused him, he’d often wait to finish himself until he was cleaning up in the bathroom afterward, or take his arousal home where he could replay the evening’s events in his mind’s eye while he got himself off. Sometimes he’d ask Seunghyun to suck him off during the session, and that was good too.

Fucking though, the both of them getting each other off, that was rare; both of them were loathe to make it a habitual thing. Seunghyun because he was slightly afraid that he would get addicted to Dae’s cock too, and not just his ability to dom; he’d never asked Daesung, but suspected it was much the same reasoning for him.

The thing was that Daesung was really quite good at fucking. He could do things just with his hips that most of Seunghyun’s lovers couldn’t do with their whole bodies and an instruction manual. It really wasn’t fair.

After Daesung rubbed his arms to help circulate his blood, he’d removed Seunghyun’s anal plug and set it aside with the other used toys to clean later.

Seunghyun was instructed to kneel on the chair Daesung had pulled over, facing the back. He gripped it with both hands as Daesung undid his belt buckle, the metal making a soft click as he loosened the tongue. Despite the condom and the lube, and the stretch from the anal plug, it was still a tight fit. His anus stretched to accommodate Daesung’s girth, and he closed his eyes, moisture leaking out from beneath his eyelids to spike his lashes as he breathed through it and talked his body into relaxing. It had been a long time. Finally he groaned, “Sir.”

Daesung drove into him, hips moving in a circular motion.

Seunghyun cried out and adjusted his grip, needing better purchase as Daesung gripped his hips and pulled his ass out so he was hovering over the edge of the chair. It would give him a better angle for Seunghyun’s prostate, which was proven a moment later when he shouted,” Shit, yeah, right there!”

“Fuck,” he continued as Daesung picked up a rhythm, each thrust finding that magical spot.

He was grunting now, leaning over Seunghyun’s back to grip the chair with one hand, driving into him with everything he had. Each move took the breath Seunghyun was trying to use to cry out, leaving his open mouthed and gasping like a landed fish. Daesung was doing that thing with his hips that drove him crazy, somehow stimulating his prostate on both the way in and out. He knew even then that he was going to come just from getting fucked; he was going to shoot his load all over his priceless chair like an untouched, overeager virgin.

And then he did, white on white like the crudest Pollock that ever came to be, and it wasn’t long after that Daesung bit his shoulder, muffling a guttural sound as he came.

Seunghyun dropped down onto the chair like a stone, his arms hugging the back so that he could hold himself up. As Daesung’s limp cock slipped from his hole, and the rush of endorphins began to fade, he could feel the session making itself known in the way his back and thighs were suddenly spasming intermittently.

Some of his pain must have shown, because Daesung ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, brushing it back from his forehead and asked quietly, “How about a bath?”

“Please, sir,” Seunghyun replied reflexively.

\---

They were chest deep in the water, Seunghyun slouched down in the overly large tub. Daesung was holding him loosely against his chest, bringing up handfuls of water and sluicing it over Seunghyun’s shoulders and collarbones, the trickles rushing down to join the source again eagerly.

It was quiet except for the hum of the jets, pulsating the water against them and soothing sore muscles.

“I—“ Seunghyun tried.

“Shh,” Daesung whispered in his ear. “Don’t say it,” he continued. “Please don’t ever say it.” There was an anguished note in his voice that would not be ignored.

It squeezed Seunghyun’s heart so that what came out instead was a little laugh. “I was just going to say ‘I may be moving like a grandpa tomorrow anyway even though we were careful.’”

“Ah,” Daesung chuckled, leaning his chin on Seunghyun’s shoulder. “Well, if anybody makes fun of you, I’ll be sure to distract them.”

“Good,” Seunghyun agreed. Then he asked in a more hesitant tone, “Before you go, do you think I could kiss you some more?”

“And cuddle?” Daesung wanted to clarify.

“Yes,” Seunghyun agreed. “In bed; just until I fall asleep.”

“Absolutely, princess,” Daesung purred, pressing his lips to the back of Seunghyun’s neck. “Absolutely. I’m here for whatever you need.”

_Anything but that._

\---

FIN


End file.
